Five Times Tony Stark Woke Up In The Wong Person's Bed
by Trickster-Prophet
Summary: ...And One Time He Didn't. - Tony keeps waking up people's beds.
1. Bruce

The first thing Tony realised when he opened his eyes was that he most certainly wasn't in his own bed. For a start, these sheets were definitely cotton, and his were silk. For another thing, there was someone in the bed next to him. The someone was as naked as he was, had his back to him, and has a mop on untidy brown hair.

It didn't take a genius to figure it all out.

Tony lay still, trying to remember the detail of the night before. He recalled himself and Bruce working in the lab, finally finishing that project and somewhere in the mess of excitement and elation, kissing him on the mouth, and Bruce kissing him back, hot and needy.

They'd pulled apart, and Tony had been prepared to brush it off, but he had seen something inn Bruce's eyes, a desperate, longing want and had pulled the other genius back in, kissing him again. They'd ended up in Bruce's bedroom after that, his being closer.

Tony sighed softly. This wasn't the worst of his choices, but he was already regretting it. What would he say to Bruce? This was gonna be awkward.

Tony thought about leaving Bruce to sleep, just putting on his clothes and walking out the door as if nothing had happened, but then Bruce stirred and rolled over, opening his eyes. For a moment, he seemed confused, then an expression bordering on panic filled his face.

"Good morning…" Tony said, smiling lazily.

"uh…morning…" Bruce replied cautiously, looked decidedly awkward.

* * *

**A/N: The chapters is this fic are super-short, because- just because. **


	2. Clint

"Owwww…" Tony complained, rubbing his head. He looked around the room. Once again, it wasn't his. Ugh, why did he keep doing this? This room was plain and airy, sparse even. There was a photo frame on the nightstand, but it was turned away from him and he couldn't see who was in the picture. Grimacing, he got out of bed and searched for his clothes.

He found his shirt near the door, his pants on a chair and his shoes in the middle of the rug. After pulling on his pants and shirt, he made to leave the room. A grumble from the bed made him turn back.

Clint Barton looked up at him, hair a mess, eyes bleary, naked.

"Seriously, you're sneaking out? Aren't you a bit past that?" Clint complained.

Tony froze, one foot raised, hand almost on the door handle. Clint beckoned him back, and Tony put down his shoes and pulled off his shirt, returning cautiously to the bed. Clint reached up and pulled him down next to him, pushing irritatedly at Tony's pants.

"Not fair that you get pants." Clint muttered, finally getting rid of the bothersome clothing.

Tony lay down next to him, and Clint crawled up until he was practically sitting on his chest. He smirked down at Tony, and licked his lips.

"Why do I get the feeling you have less than honorable intentions?" Tony asked as Clint ran a hnd down Tony's chest.

"Why ever would you assume that?" Clint grinned.


	3. Thor

Something's draped over him. Something warm and heavy. He pokes it, not brave enough to open his eyes yet. He knows if he does, he probably won't like what he finds.

It feels like an arm.

Tony cracks open one eye, looking at the offending something with dubious caution. It is an arm. He shuts his eye again, not sure he wants to know who the arm belongs to, and how they ended up in bed together. Remaining still, he checks what he can of the situation. He's not wearing a shirt, but seems to still have his pyjama pants on, which is always a good sign. He can't feel any of the signs that suggest he's been having sex with anyone, which he takes as a positive. Maybe.

The arm on top of him shifts, and Tony wonders suddenly – with a cold thrill of anxiety – that he doesn't know a) who is in his bed, or b) where this someone's other arm happens to be. This worries him immensely.

There's nothing for it, he has to open his eyes and face the facts.

He opens both eyes this time, quickly, not wanting to come to terms with it gradually. What he sees gives him the fright of his life.  
There's a face, leaning in, close to his, blue eyes wide and curious. Tony shifts backwards across the bed that isn't his and glares at Thor.

"I'm in your bed." He says, confused and stating the obvious, "Why am I in your bed?"

"I was considering asking you the same question." Thor replies.


	4. Natasha

The next time that he wakes up in a bed that isn't his. He thinks for a seconds he's alone. Then he feels the way the mattress dips lightly next to him and realises that there is someone in his space, or rather, he's in theirs.

Tony takes a moment, not opening his eyes, wondering where he is. The sheets are smooth and soft, but not fancy or expensive like he's used to. He can tell it's a woman's room, there something about it, perhaps the smell of it, that makes him so sure. Sound is the next thing he senses, and the first thing he can hear confuses him greatly.

Scrape, scrape, scrape…pause, scrape, scrape, scrape…

The scraping noise continues, sounding disturbingly like metal on metal, and Tony forces himself to open his eyes. What he sees…well, he's starting to wonder if he should even be surprised about this type of thing.

Natasha is sitting up in the double bed, leaning against the headboard. She's wearing a pair of white pyjama shorts and a black T-shirt with the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on the front, and her long legs are stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed gracefully, feet bare. Her hair was pulled back into an untidy ponytail, and she had a knife and whetstone in her clearly capable hands, which appeared to be the source of the scraping.

"Oh, good, you're awake." She said coolly when she registered that he'd opened his eyes.

Tony sat up slowly, "Do you always have weapons in bed, or is that just because it's me?" He asked.

For a moment, he thought he saw a smile flicker over her face, but it was gone too fast for him to tell.


	5. Loki

His face hurts.

That being said, all of him hurts a bit. Tony stretches, not opening his eyes yet. He's feels warm though, like he's lying in the sun. He opens an eye. He IS lying in the sun. The sunlight is streaming in through the window of a room he is sure is somewhere within the Tower, though he doesn't actually recognise it.

He can hear the shower running somewhere nearby, and he sits up in a bed that might have been his for the richness of the sheets, but they're the wrong colour and possibly slightly silkier than his. The sheets are dark green. Tony flops backwards onto the bed, starting to get an idea of whose bed this actually is.

"Hello?" he asks, slipping out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom and the sound of the shower. No reply. He turns and looks back around the room, realising now that he's completely naked. Not that it bothers him. He's rather at ease with his own form.

The room is tastefully decorated in colours that tend towards dark green and black, with hints of gold here and there. Yep, he knows exactly whose room this is. Great.

Tony catches his reflection in the mirror. There's a large bruise on his cheek that he's sure wasn't there yesterday evening. He touches it gently and it hurts a little. He wonders idly how it came to be there, and then looks around the room for clues.

The handcuffs still locked to the ironwork bedframe and the riding crop next on the end table jog the memories nicely. And they also tell him for sure who is in the shower.

Loki.

Tony contemplates his chances of leaving before the trickster god leaves the bathroom. The shower turns off. Tony looks around frantically for his clothes and finds them. He drags on last night trousers and shirt and leaves the room before Loki can finish up in the bathroom.

Probably for the best.


End file.
